Ambrosia and Kryptonite
by SydneyAlice
Summary: She is my ambrosia and Kryptonie. Heaven and Hell. And I am powerless to stop it.


**AN: I've really been missing FF, so here I am with a little something. Hope you enjoy. :)**

* * *

**Ambrosia and Kryptonite**

* * *

Mr. Molina dims the lights and presses play on the archaic video player.

"Eyes up front," he tells the class.

Our classmates shuffle in their seats, trying to make themselves comfortable for the next hour. Some are asleep before the film even begins to play.

But not me.

I've never been more awake.

Edward is watching me with an intensity that I feel deep in my soul.

In my bones.

In my blood.

I should be afraid, but I'm not.

His eyes are honey gold as they penetrate me. A sane person would admit to herself that those eyes aren't normal. A normal person would question how it was even possible to have that shade of eye color.

I've never been normal.

As for my sanity, it's obviously questionable. Because here I sit, in the middle of Biology class, staring into the golden eyes of the most beautiful boy I've ever seen.

What I don't understand is why he's staring at me.

So I ask him.

He blinks, as if my question confuses him.

"Because you're beautiful," he says softly.

My cheeks burn, and I know, instinctively, that my blush makes things more difficult for him. I can't seem to control it, anyhow. When the most handsome and perfect boy tells you that you're beautiful, blushing seems like a completely rational bodily response.

But he's not a boy, and that's something I have to remember.

I love him. After yesterday's confession in the meadow, I love him even more. He is willingly putting himself in pain, just to be close to me. Every second with me makes his throat flame, but he never leaves my side.

"Please tell me what you're thinking."

I nervously glance at the teacher, but his eyes are downcast, and I wonder if he's playing with his phone. That's what our classmates are doing. Texting or snoring.

But not us.

"I'm thinking it's very dark in here."

He nods, and I can tell my answer confuses him.

I confuse him a lot.

Bravely, I place my hand on my lap, palm upturned, and hold my breath.

His head bows, and I see the indecision on his face.

"I trust you." It's not even a whisper. It's barely a wisp of air across my lips, but I know he hears me, because the doubt on his face is suddenly replaced with determination.

It's thrilling, watching his hand slowly move toward mine. It's such a simple gesture, one that our classmates take for granted each day. But for us, it's so much more.

Surely we can have this.

Can't we?

Very gently, his palm brushes mine, and we both sigh.

I nearly laugh out loud. It's ridiculous to be so excited about something as modest as hand holding.

But I don't laugh, because his skin is on mine.

Finally.

The tension radiates from him, and for a moment, I feel guilty for being happy about something that clearly makes him so uncomfortable. If we can't do this simple thing, how will we ever do other things?

Like hug.

Or kiss.

The thought of kissing him gives me courage. Determined to prove we can do this, I flex my fingers around his. He inhales sharply. I glance in his direction, and my resolve fades. The look of concentration on his face assures me that he's too focused on not killing me to actually enjoy this.

I want him to enjoy touching me.

Defeated, I start to pull my hand away, but his fingers wrap around my wrist, holding me still.

My eyes find his in the darkness.

"Stay," he mouths.

I'm frozen in place as his finger slowly traces along mine, soft as a feather. My body tenses, but not from fear. Every stroke of his skin against mine causes me to breathe a little faster.

Edward leans close to my ear.

"Listen to your frantic heart," he whispers in awe.

My eyes close as his breath tickles my skin. I turn my head toward his, and his eyes flicker to my mouth. I lick my lips, and his eyes widen. It's all I can do not to kiss him, but I resist. Instead, I pull away, putting some distance between our bodies.

No matter how much I want it, our first kiss will not be in Biology class.

* * *

I can't take my eyes off her.

Bella's heart-shaped face is now hidden by her long brown hair. This frustrates me, but I don't dare brush the strands away. My control is already slipping. The fragrance of her hair would surely push me over the edge.

As a test, I inhale, and my throat flames. It's indescribable. Heaven knows I've tried. Maybe words for her scent have yet to be invented, because nothing fits.

Except for one.

_Singer._

Carlisle is sure of it. There is no other explanation for the feeling that surges through me each time I taste her on my tongue.

Ambrosia and Kryptonite.

Heaven and Hell.

And I'm powerless to stop it.

My frustration grows as she stares straight ahead. Countless minds in the world, and hers is the one I cannot read. The only mind that matters, and she is completely silent to me. I have no idea what she thinks or feels when I gaze at her this way.

_Creep?_

Most likely.

And yet, I stare, like a dying man in a desert who has stumbled upon a river. Sometimes I wonder if, like that water, she's simply a mirage. An image my own mind has conjured with the sole purpose of torturing me.

Her fingers flex around mine, and she whispers my name.

No mirage could sound so sweet.

I look down at our joined hands, and I smile.

I can touch her, and if her thundering heart is any indication, she likes my touch. Which is a good thing, because now that I know I can, I won't be able to stop.

The movie ends, and Mr. Molina flips on the lights. The bell rings, and students begin to file out.

Bella blinks her eyes against the harsh light before turning toward me. She smiles.

"You're touching me."

"So I am."

Her fingers tighten around mine. "It's nice."

"Yes, it is."

"I wonder," she says softly, "now that we know you can touch me . . ."

"How will we ever stop?"

She blushes.

Reading her mind is becoming so much easier.


End file.
